


Fourteen Years

by Tanith3003



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AU, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Drama, F/M, Mello survives, POV, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 04:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanith3003/pseuds/Tanith3003
Summary: Sometimes I can't help but think - what would they tell me if they found out who I've become





	Fourteen Years

**Author's Note:**

> I tried writing this huge Death Note fic when I was like 15. Needless to say this drabble is the only readable thing connected to that universe in any shape or form. Enjoy.

Fourteen years. It's been fourteen years... it's unbearable. People say that as you get older, time flies by faster. I'm only 20, but I alrady feel like an old man.  
Matt's car smells like him and his cigarettes, and it feels like he's sitting right beside me on the passenger seat. But I know very well that if I turned my head I'd only see an empty seat. Besides, he would never let me ride this car. The smell of his cigarettes always reminds me of that day when we smoked our first cigarette behind the orphanage... That crap nearly suffocated me and he got addicted. One cigarette for two. One orphanage room. One chance to die together and I am the only one who survives. Matt never taught me how to smoke.  
There was so much that happened to me. And her too. We've gone through all this chaos together. We tamed the mafia together, hunted Kira together, she helped me through it all, nursed me back to health after I nearly blew myself up Tokyo. She was there when I lost to Near. I have a glass eye thanks to Takada, and she doesn't have her left hand thanks to me. She won't play the piano for me again. But she will sing, if I make her. After what happened to her hand we nearly stopped talking. We only fucked when things became unbearable. And after Matt died, the sole fact of her existence made me angry. I would jump from the bed after another nightmare, and she'd be there. I would wake up after a night of drinking, and she'd be there, watching me with those eyes of hers. And in them is God-knows-what - an unholy amount of pity, rage, or reproach for daring to survive. That fucking look made me so enraged that I was ready to strangle her right then and there. Of course, I couldn't. My love for her made itself a nest in my spine, now it's like a parasite I can't get rid of. Her? Takada is already dead, but she can still take her revenge for her hand on me. I wouldn't mind it, to be honest. For our three years I've never done a single thing for her. Now everything makes me want to puke. Myself, most of all. And that's why I decided to come here.   
\- Mello. - she shakes me from behind. The traffic light is green. It's time to go.   
***  
When we came there it was already past noon. Sea shore, autumn, and the birches are as tall as they were. I was born here.  
Our house is no more than a ruin, overgrown by ivy. It's roof was gone, door rotten, windows destroyed. In my head, memories pop up from the deep of my mind. They drop and spread like drops of blood. They warm up my soul.  
I don't remember much from that part of my life, but every memory I build from scrap and keep with great care. Memories are all I have left from my family and the me I once was. Unshadowed, untainted, clear and colorful me - Mihael Keehl. But now I became black-and-white. I am no more than five leters on a paper. Now I am simply Mello. Here, I can just stand and let myself sink in them, as she stands behind, few meters from me. She knows that I need some time, knows me too well.  
I remember how my mother always said how much me and my sister look like our father. Both blonde, pale. Only eyes and my small height, to hell with it, I got from my mother. I remember fearing that Diana will grow taller than me. I shouldn't have. It never happened. My twin sister never lived to grow taller than 4 ft. I'll never forget the feeling of something snapping inside of me as I heard her being shot. God...  
I want to smile and wail at the same time. I can feel a tug, urging me to go inside, but as little as one thought of what happened in there makes me sick to my stomach. What if there's still blood? What if... Jesus...   
So I just stand there, looking at the ruins of my childhood, somehow managing to keep a straight face. But I can't hide anything from her. She's already standing right beside me and I bet she knows that I'm being torn apart from the inside. From the corner of my eye I can see that she repeatedly glances over my hand, considers taking it. I can't explain how much I need her to hold me right now, but this stupid pride of mine won't let me ask for help or, God forbid, affection. She keeps standing there. Looks like she won't be taking my hand for now.  
She regrets many things, just like me. We both regret becoming what we are now, that's certainly not the life our parents wanted for us. Constant running, skirmishes, danger. If only everything was different. If only we were given just one chance for normal life. I would have a family and become an architect, just like I've always wanted, and she would forever stay a spoiled daddy's girl, like she should've been. This is truly monstrous.   
\- Sometimes I can't help but think what would they tell me if they found out who I've become. - I'm talking into the emptyness, she listens but doesn't show it.   
\- Diana would probably slap me across the face... we're twins, right? I should know. - my voice shakes for a brief second - My mother wouldn't believe, and father... He wouldn't say a word.  
Yes. I knew that my father would just hopelessly stare. If he survived he would do anyhting in his power to save me and my sister from this rotten world, tainted by death and drugs, so I wouldn't repeat his mistakes. And what did I do? I forced my way into it, willingly, and with great enthusiasm. And all of it for this stupid, impossible goal that crippled us both mentally and physically, killing poor Matt in the process, who had nothing to do with all of this at all.   
\- What is done can't be undone. - she said, as if reading my mind. She's right. It can't be undone. Our grave mistakes are our burden, and both of us will carry it til the end of our days, together or alone. It is proven by my eye and the scar on my face. It is proven by her left hand and death of Matt, who should've lived instead of me. I don't even have his picture...   
In a few seconds, I walk away without looking back. She follows. When we reach the car I finally break down and hug her, tightly and carefully at the same time. She digs her nails in my back with all her strength and hunger, her ripped breath on my neck. And for a second it seems like everything is like before, like we still have some hope for life, like we still dream of escaping and marrying, like we will now go home and I will hear her play the piano once again, and find Matt programming another one of his stupid apps. For this one second it seems so real... But only for a second. A second, and I am once again smothered by reality, realizing that there is only one palm on my back. She still needs me like fire needs oxygen, and lately there's not enought of it for her. And all is because I'm an ungrateful scum, who didn't even bother to thank her for everything she's done for me. Maybe this will sound painfully hilarious, but being an ungrateful scum is not an easy thing. But, no matter what, she holds me like she still loves me to death and knows that I love her the same. Just like before... I love her more than I love myself, and right now I am strangely confident that she loves me too. We are bound by this unbreakable bond that I can almost feel physically, but I still need some time. Time to find this drive for life, find my way out of this dirt I've fallen into without thinking, and fix the mess in my head and in the shreds of my rotten little soul. After all, this world that just lost it's new, false God deserves some time too. I don't know how much time will pass until we start talking again and when will everything go back to the way it used to be, but we're gonna be fine. I know we will.  
\- Mihael? - she whispers.  
\- Yes?   
\- Let's get drunk.  
And so we did. We got blackout drunk and fucked in the nearest motel. And in the morning? Everything stayed the same.


End file.
